Consistently Stoic
by LovelyTomorrow
Summary: When Buffy falls victim to a fatal illness, the Scooby gang asks Angel to turn Buffy, and, not wanting to loose his soul mate, he does. Please R&R.
1. Color

Consistently Stoic

Summary: When the Scoobies run out of options to keep their Slayer alive, they devise a plan for Angel to turn Buffy into a vampire.

Disclaimer: Nope, nobody's mine--except for Savannah, but she won't come in until much, much later. (Yeah, aren't you intrigued) Anyway, everything else belongs to important, grown-up people like Joss Whedon.

AN: This is pretty much AU from the start, but lets just say it begins at the beginning of season seven of Buffy (Buffy knows Spike has a soul) and four of Angel (Angel has come back from the big box in the ocean dilema). Although, it really becomes its own animal from that point.

AN: It's not beta-ed, so it's probably filed with errors. If anyone would like to beta for me, please, by all means. It will eventually be an epic...I know where I'm going with it. It's just a matter of writting it all down with lovely, intense words. Anyway, I'm still pretty new at this so please R&R.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but Angel could smell its presence more than ever before. His hand had formed a fist and then loosened, as he tried to contain the power he felt from drinking the Slayer.

Buffy was still unconscious, but she looked better than she had. Her fever had broken; her cough was gone; her lips even had some color.

_Well, not color. _

He walked over to Buffy on his bed. Her eyes were closed, but only lightly. She looked like she was sleeping.

Angel used to watch her sleep years ago--back when she was in high school. She would come to his mansion and vent to him about school, and slaying, and her mother. And then she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice reading his novel of choice to her.

And now that would be their life again. Neither of them had any choice.

Instinctively, Angel listened carefully for the gentle rise and fall of Buffy's breathing…and then he remembered. She wasn't breathing.

She was dead.

Buffy's still corpse was lying quietly on his bed. She wasn't sleeping…she was dead.

The phone rang pungently through Angel's grief, and he automatically picked it up to stop the sound. The back of his mind seemed to tell him it would wake Buffy. "Hello," he delivered smoothly into the phone, as if nothing had happened.

"Hello," Giles's voice met his own, "Angel? I-Is it done?"

_Done_. It's done. His Slayer's dead. "Yeah, Giles. I--I did it--It's done."

"Has she awoken?" the question was hardly a whisper, only picked up by Angel's enhanced sense of hearing.

"Not yet." The shame he felt saying that didn't show through at all. He remained very stern and business-like. "I--I think she'll be fine."

After a long pause, he responded, "Yes. How--How long until she w-wakes?"

"A few hours, probably."

"Oh."

Moments of terribly horrifying silence loomed in the air between them.

"Well, uh, do call me when she…she wakes…"

"I will."

Angel had a feeling he was in shock. How else could he be talking to Giles about killing his Slayer like this without any emotion in his voice?

"G-Good. Uh…tell her…" Giles swallowed hard, feeling every inch of scratchy dry skin ache with the pain of his Slayer's demise as he did. "Tell her we all love her. That we'll never stop."

"I will," Angel repeated.

"Are you sure she'll have her soul?"

"I-I think so…" That was his biggest fear. What if Buffy _didn't _keep her soul?

Legend had it that a Slayer's soul is just so pure that she would keep it if she ever entered the legions of the undead, but as far as Angel knew, it was just that--a legend.

"Well, if she's not, be-be sure to…" That, the Watcher couldn't speak of. He couldn't form the words to tell the vampire who loved his charge to put a wooden stake through her heart.

"…I will…" he said for the third time.

"Well…alright…I-I suppose I'll be hearing from you soon."

"Yeah."

"Right. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

Angel hung up the phone, awed by Giles' ever-polite, British voice. He knew more than anything that Giles would have loved to take out all his angers on him. Tell him what he was really feeling. Express how hurt he was that this had to happen in such a tragic, mortifying way.

He glanced once again at his sleeping Childe. …His new Childe.

She would be terribly hurt…and shocked…and ashamed. Ashamed more than anything else, Angel guessed. Ashamed, that Buffy Summers--one of the most prestigious and well-respected vampire Slayers in history, would now be a member of the Order of Aurelias--one of the most prestigious and well-respected vampire families in history.

But Giles was right; she still had people who loved her…human people. Her life wouldn't really be that different.

_Yes, it will be._

No matter how many times Angel denied it to himself, he knew Buffy would not take the minor solace that was available to her. She would want to die--soul or no soul.

But it was Angel's job, as sire, lover, and friend, to help her through this time. They would be together forever now; they had to be everything for one another.

The sun was showing its glaring face now; Angel could smell it. Bright and happy and warm…

…she would miss the human things. She would miss her heart. She would miss the sun. She would miss food. She would miss the beach. She would miss tanning. She would miss dating. She would miss the heat of sex. She would miss everything.

A shiver went down his spine slowly at the thought of how hard it would be for her to give up being human cold turkey.

She would now have to live off of pig's blood, like him. And never see her friends in day light, or taste chocolate, or see her reflection.

_It's not fair. _He put a frustrated hand to his forehead. Angel's eyes filled with gentle, accepted tears, and he ran a hand over Buffy's face. Her beautiful, peaceful, still face.

She would hate him. She would blame him. She would never forgive him.

The sun was up, officially. Students were going to school; their parents leaving for work.

_Parents_.

Silently, he thanked God that Buffy's mother was not alive. She would be heartbroken. He cocked his head to the side to look at her for just one moment more. Maybe he should just stake her now and tell Giles she lost her soul.

_No._ Who was he kidding? He couldn't.

Buffy had a few hours before waking, and Angel was tired from the emotional marathon he had been through. He let out a long sigh, and choked back a flood of tears. "Oh, God, my sweet Buffy," he smiled, feeling all the pain he could, and wanted to embrace her more than ever before.

Giving in to his simple desire to hold her, Angel climbed delicately into his bed with Buffy and wrapped his arms around her waist. He inhaled her blood's scabbing scent and laid his head in the crevice between her head and neck. The tears that came out of his eyes were now so numerous that he could not see through them, so he closed his eyes and let the utter silence of Buffy's existence lull him to sleep.


	2. Damned

Consistently Stoic

...The story continues...

.Blood. Blood was everywhere. It covered her; surrounded her entire being. She bathed in it; flourished in the rich, smooth texture as it glided over her milky skin.

For a moment she loved the feel of it; it felt natural; it felt primal.

Then, it began to be too much. The red silken liquid flowed too far and filled her lungs, put pressure upon her tiny body, and buried her into its massive power. As she drowned in the blood and attempted to gasp for air, she heard the voice of an angel…or a devil. There was no real way to be sure.

"Mine," it sang, "You are mine."

She tried to push her body away from the blood, but found that it was no use. It was overwhelming her entire being. Pouring into her mouth, drenching her hair, invading her ears and eye sockets. The sound of it rushing to her began to intensify magnificently. The sheer chaos of it was enough to drive someone completely insane.

But then, it softened. Gracefully, the blood flowed soundly beside her. Eventually it transformed into a soft satin blanket that relaxed itself around the girl's tiny body.

"There, there," the voice returned, "You see, the worst is over."

Her eyes would not open to look upon the mysterious speaker, nor would her voice come so that she could respond.

"Love surrounds you, my sweet Slayer," the voice was neither male nor female and never rose above a whisper. "It is time for your journey to commence. You will leave me now."

She didn't like that idea at all. For some reason, her instincts told her that she was safe and far from the terrors of earthly danger.

"Now, now; don't fight it, dearest. You of all people should know the destinies cannot be fought," the voice told her gently, instantly knowing her objections. "Go on, now, and live in greatness."

Before a thought could form in her cluttered mind, the blanket surrounding Buffy dripped back into its liquid form and dragged her under once again to be drowned by that which gives life.

"Blood!" Buffy belted, eyes still clenched shut. "No more blood! Too much! I can't--" she opened her eyes, instantly feeling her cold skin and unbeating heart. She waited for a long moment to stop imagining things, and for her body to start working again.

She sat up to keep herself from fainting, "I can't breathe."

In an instant, she rushed from the alien bed she was in and ran like the wind in whatever direction her legs took her.

"No!" she screamed in an animalistic rage, refusing to believe that she was not simply envisioning this transformation. "No!" her rage echoed through the spacious room that held her. "No…"

Buffy stopped running and tried with all her being to breathe. She couldn't. She tried to feel her heart beating rapidly--or at all. She didn't. She attempted to convince herself that her cheeks were flushed with heat, but she knew they weren't. None of her body had any heat at all. She was cold; she was dead. She, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, had become a vampire.

"No!" she shrieked before the ocean of tears began to flow. Once Buffy had fallen to the floor and culred herself into a tight ball, her mind wondered to how this could have happened to her.

The last thing she remembered was being sick--very sick. As far as Giles could tell, a highly powerful Roritica demon that Buffy had been battling was a well-known and feared dark preist. Supposedly, the Roritica was royally pissed at her for attacking him and had cast some sort of spell on her that made her sick--really, really sick.

"It's worse than anything I've seen," the doctor had said, and he wasn't kidding.

Buffy's sickness seemed to be a combination of the worst illnesses plaguing the earth: ebola, smallpox, syphilis, tuberculosis--she had a bunch of mixed symptoms that didn't connect and were all spreading inexplicidly quickly. Even with all the vaccines and medications available, her illness was rapidly becoming fatal. Soon, everyone gave up hope on her living, including herself, because of the demon's utter and sudden disappearence.

If she really stretched her memory, she could remember crying tears as she said goodbye to her friends every night, not knowing if she would wake the next morning.

Then, darkness. Simple, pure, calming darkness.

And then a rush of pain and lust, coolness, which she now knew, was her death.

"But who?" came her voice, quiet and careful. Who would've turned her into such a monstrosity.

Causisouly, she lifted her head up to view her surroundings and realized that they were not as foreign as she had thought. In fact, she knew exactly where she was--she was in Angel's mansion.

Angel.

"_No,_" her mind insisted, "_He wouldn't_." Angel would never have done this to her, but without a doubt, it was Angel's masion.

Then, with a shock, she realized who she _must _be dealing with: Angelus.

And with a tight jaw, Buffy stood, demanding her tears to stop falling and her legs to stop shaking. "Angelus, you god damned bastard."

"…Buffy?" his voice whispered from behind her, gentle and ever-persuasive.

She turned without speaking to him, letting the fires in her eyes speak for themselves.

"Oh, God, Buffy," his crocodile tears fell, "I'm _so _sorry. I had to."

"You bastard!" she boomed before pummeling his face without hesitation. "You _killed _me!"

"I know," the tears flew uncontrollably at her hurt, angry eyes, "Please, Buffy, forgive me."

"Lunatic! You're sorry?" she hit him again, this time knocking him to the floor and holding him there with a stone cold foot on his face.

"Buffy," he cried through the obvious pain.

"How dare you?" her voice rose to a screetch as she harnessed the vampire strength into destroying him. "You evil son of a bitch! You _killed me_, you god damned demon! I hate you!" After his face was drenched in its own blood, Buffy spat on him in total hatred.

His sobs were choked by the blood, "Love you!" he spat out.

Before she hit again, the vampire senses triggered a feeling of warmth in the broken man in front of her. It was an aura of kindness and compassion. Her brain triggered the feeling: the being had a soul.

Angel sobbed at her feet, and unrecognizable mass of blood.

"Angel!" she gasped at her mess and fell to hold him. "Angel, I'm sorry," she picked him up and wrapped her arms around his weak torso.

"God, Buffy, I killed you!" he sobbed.

Her eyes burned of tears as they fell from her still fiery eyes. "…Angel…" There were no words.

He didn't answer at all this time. He just cried into her cold shoulder.

"…Angel…Oh God…" It wasn't long before she was doing the same to him.

And so they stayed there for a good, long while: crying and sobbing and shaking…and mourning.


	3. Selfish

Consistently Stoic

...The story continues to continue...

An hour later, their crying had ceased, Angel's wounds had healed, and Buffy was laying silent in Angel's bed.

"…Buffy…" Angel ventured, holding a glass of pig's blood out to his newest childe, "Um, you should eat--drink something."

Buffy swallowed hard and peered up at the glass from her laying-down position on Angel's bed. Her tears had just begun to dry.

"Uh, it's pig's blood," Angel spit out, praying his action wouldn't brake Buffy, "Uh…I mean, usuallyafteraturningthenewchildedrinksfromthesire, but…"

"What?" she croaked out, "What was that, mumble man?"

"Oh, um, well, it's just this stupid ritual type thing."

"A ritual," she sat up sleepily.

"Well, no. Not a ritual. That wasn't the right word. It's more like a tradition."

"For vampires…"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, it's a stupid, old tradition…but, you really should drink something so…" he held the glass out for her to take it.

She smiled at him and took the glass, "What's the tradition?"

"It's nothing."

"No, I want to know," a trace of her old curiosity shown in her eyes. "It's my heritage now, too," she reminded Angel.

He shook my head, "But you're gonna think it's--"

"I won't." Buffy sat up straight, trying to look more adult and mature.

"Yes, you will. You always have. You hate hearing about all that weird vampire stuff," he insisted, hearing himself grip onto the Buffy he had known for so long.

Angel could see her digest this, suppress tears, and then force her strong gaze upon him, "But I'm a vampire now." She spoke in an even calmness--the antithesis of the language her eyes were speaking. "And I need to know these things."

"Fine." He gave in to those ice cold green fires, then remembered who he was talking to. Realizing he was being far too serious for what Buffy could handle, he smiled, "But you're gonna think its disgusting."

She was visibly relieved that the heavy conversation was, for the moment, over, as she put the glass of pig's blood on Angel's nightstand and stared at him, expectantly.

"When a new vampire is made, it is tradition that they drink from their sire as their first…meal," Angel sighed, waiting for the inevitable gagging.

"Oh," she nodded, not willing to show her obvious revulsion, "So, you want me to…drink from you…?"

"No," he barked, then defensively added, "You wanted me to tell you that its tradition for you to drink from me. I never said you actually had to."

"Oh…" a smirk lit up her features, "So you don't want me to drink from you?"

"I…" Suddenly not hating the idea of Buffy feeding off of him as his Childe, he considered. "I want you to do whatever you would like to do."

"So…you wouldn't be insulted at all if I chose to drink the blood of swine over the blood of…well, you?"

Now that she was asking, he found he would be a little insulted. "No," he lied.

"Well, that's kind of weird. I would be," she smiled.

He paused for a moment, realizing that she was mocking him, and then smiled back. "Jeez, a girl goes though a very traumatizing experience less than an hour ago and now she's cracking jokes."

"I pun at extremely inappropriate times," she nodded, "It's my thing."

"Ah," he nodded with her for a moment, then picked up the glass from the nightstand, "Is there any chance of you drinking this?"

"No, not really."

"Too soon?"

"I think so."

"Alright, then," he got up to go, "I'll let you rest."

"Hey," she grabbed his arm, "I've got an eternity to rest. Stay with me?" She peered up at him with the eyes of a pleading puppy.

A half hour later, both Buffy and Angel were comfortably lounging on Angel's bed--Buffy face up, tracing the cracks on the ceiling with her eyes, and Angel, propped up on his elbow, tracing the gentle curves of Buffy's face with his eyes. "Was it terrible?" Buffy squinted, wait for Angel's response.

"Watching you die? Yes, it was terrible," he shook his head, "What kind of question is that?"

"Well, they were the last moments of my life, and I wasn't conscious enough to see them, so I'm asking you." She smirked, "Did I look hideous?"

"Oh, that is such a loaded question," he shook his head.

"You're not gonna tell me?" she sat up straight and looked at him with mock mortification. "Angel! I deserve to know! Was I all pasty and sweaty and…oh, my God, were there boils!"

He let out a smile, "No boils."

She looked at his skeptically.

"I cross my heart," he held up both his hands, as a sign of innocence.

"Oh, well, yeah, that means a lot. You're already dead," she lay back down with a thump.

After a pause, he questioned her lightly, "Does it matter, now?"

She looked over at him, considering this, "No, I guess not. None of it matters, now."

"That's not true," he insisted, "A lot of it matters. Your friends…" _Oops._

"My friends," she sighed, turning back to the ceiling, dodging Angel's eyes.

"…You okay?" he whispered.

"Honestly?" she turned her body away from him, "I am so very far from okay."

He cast his eyes down, hating himself for hurting her.

"I think," she squinted, "That I know I've got such a long road in front of me before I'm okay--before I can laugh and face my friends and lay in a bed with you and not feel awkward--that I'm just…bypassing all of the hard part and getting to the fun stuff," she turned over to face him, "Does that make any sense?"

He moved in closer to her, putting his arm down, so they were face to face, "It makes a lot of sense."

"Everything's gonna be so hard," her voice started to crack.

"Shh," he put his arms around her, gently, "C'mere. It's okay."

"I don't wanna…" she mumbled into his chest, "I don't want it to be hard."

"It's okay," he brought his face down to hers, "It'll be alright, baby, I promise."

Silence overtook both of them as she rose her eyes to his. For a moment, they stayed like that, Buffy being cradled by Angel's accepting arms. Then, she smoothly grabbed hold of both sides of his face and brought her mouth to his.

Their kiss was soft and gentle. They held still for a few moments, wanting to share what they had once shared before, then mutually broke apart. Buffy starred at him for a second, then smirked and shook her head, "Well, that's that."

"Buffy…" he had no idea what to say.

She leaned into him, her forehead resting on his. "I don't want to use you," she whispered, "I'm in so much pain…I shouldn't be…"

"I love you," he demanded., suddenly sure of his words.

The look in her eyes denied him, "Don't say that. We're…emotional."

"I love you," he repeated.

"Please, Angel," she shook her head, not wanting to hear those words again.

"Buffy, I do. Why do think I agreed to do this?" She moved to get out of the bed, and he followed her.

"I don't have any idea why you agreed to do this." She turned on him, angry and spiteful. "And if _love _is your reason, then I caution you, strongly, not to tell me, because this," she indicated herself, "Is not love. This is cruel and selfish and wrong." She shook her head, "People are supposed to die!"

"No, Buffy, that's not what--" he was shocked at her outburst.

"People die! That's what they do! Even people who you love die, and I'm sorry if that sucks, and you don't like it, but they do! And I am so God damned sick of everybody refusing to let me die, because they love me!" She broke down; every inch of her broke with emotion as she let her body fall to the floor. The tears came out strong and loud.

Angel stood stunned at her words, and sat back down on the bed, knowing Buffy didn't want him near her. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry."

She sniffled and looked up at him, tear stained, "No?"

"No. You're right. We were wrong. We were selfish. We weren't thinking this through--"

"Well, how wonderful that you realize this _now_--"

"But it is done," he pushed through her interruption, "And whether you like it or not, you're not going to die. You're going to be here forever."

"Because of you!"

"Because of me, yeah. But also because of your friends and your family. They couldn't watch you go like that, Buffy. It was too hard."

"Well, great! But, hey, guess what? Now, I get to watch each and every one of them die! Don't you think that's gonna be _hard _for me!"

Her words struck him brutally. She would see all of her friends die. She would stand by each of their graves and mourn them. He shook his head, "It's not fair."

"You bet your ass it's not fair!" she screamed. "It's not fair at all. I've been damned…" her voice softened, seeing the pain in his eyes, and she knew he understood.

They waited in silence for something to happen. Neither wanted to speak; neither wanted to be in the position that they were in. Suddenly, Buffy rose and walked over to her Sire. As if tending to a wounded animal, she put a calming hand on his cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry for yelling."

"Don't be." His self-hatred was evident in his gruff voice.

"It's not your fault."

"Of course it is. I did it."

"Angel…"

"I killed you. I damned you."

"Well, I forgive you."

Her words were simple and kind, but meant the world to him. Forgiveness.

His face softened as he looked up at her, "Thank you."

"Sure thing," she smiled warmly upon him.

He was about to smile back when there was a loud crashing sound coming from the front door. "Angelus!" Spike's angry voice bellowed though the mansion, instantly jerking Buffy's hand from Angel's cheek. "I'll kill you if it's true, Angelus! I'll kill you!"

"Spike…" Buffy's voice was an aghast whisper. Spike had never even crossed her mind. Instantly, her eyes began to tear at the thought of his reaction to her new vampire state.

"Spike," Angel nodded to her.

"Angelus!" it was evident in his voice that he had been crying.

"Oh, God, Angel," Buffy shook her head, not knowing what to think.

"Stay here," he held an arm out in front of her and moved out of the bedroom and towards Spike's vicious calling. Buffy didn't protest; she was too fragile. She just continued to shake her head and sat down on the bed behind her.

"Spike," Angel delivered coolly when he found his grandchilde in the mansion's foyer with a stake held firmly in his right hand.

"Where is she?" Spike's voice was a low growl pushed through gritted teeth.

"She's in my room. She has a soul," Angel assured him.

Spike froze, digesting this. Then, his eyes glowed yellow for a moment as his face changed into its vampire form. His fist clenched so hard around the stake that it bled, as he charged head first towards Angel with a war cry.

"Spike!" Angel demanded, holding Spike's arms away from his heart. "It's done! She's one of us, but she has a soul! Calm down!"

"No!" he lunged for his Sire again, his emotions not allowing him to concentrate and hit his target.

"Yes!" Angel roared, turning Spike around and pinning his arms behind him and holding them there. "Calm down…" he ordered more gently.

"No…" Spike's voice drifted into tears. Angel pried the stake out of Spike's hands and threw it to the floor, then turned Spike around and embraced him. "You killed her, you God damned bastard," Spike blubbered, trying not to hug Angel back.

"I know," Angel nodded sadly, "But it'll be okay. She's still her; she has a soul."

After a moment of shaking his head in disbelief Spike looked to his Sire as a child would to his father, "Why? Why would you do it?"

"She was dying," he tried to explain.

"She was human," Spike's eyes were dull fires.

Angel smirked down at him, "I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did," he nodded. "…Buffy…" his eyes began to tear up again.

"I know, I know," Angel whispered after wrapping his arms tightly around his Childe. "It'll be okay."

"My Buffy…" Spike cried, barely audible.

At that Angel paused, and his arms dropped slowly. "Our Buffy," he tried.

Spike pondered this before looking to Angel, tears almost gone, and smiling by way of acceptance.

"Behind you," her voice traveled to their ears calmly. They turned to see her standing there. She looked like a goddess.

"Buffy," both men chorused. Spike stepped towards her, with a hand outstretched as if he was almost unsure if she was real or not.

"It's okay, Spike," she nodded, "I'm okay."

He didn't speak; he only moved foreword to embrace her. Buffy fell into his arms gratefully, holding him close to her.

"I'm okay," she heard herself lie and looked guiltily to Angel, who gave her a look of understanding.

"How can you be…?" Spike couldn't finish through his pain.

"We'll figure it out," Angel tried. "We'll make it work."

Buffy broke out of the embrace with Spike slowly. "We will," she said, trying to convince both Spike and herself.

"You're one of us, now," Spike kept his gaze on her.

The three of them looked to one another, taking in their new family and feeling the dawning of a new era in each of their lives.

And that's it so far. Like I said, I'm planning this epic-type thing. Please, please, please review. I get so happy when I see a new review. No, really, I do a littledance, clap my hands, listen to horrible music...people are worried. But, hey, who caresabout them. Please, review!


	4. Traditional

**Kay, so I'm aware that when it comes to updates, some may find me slow. However, with this one, I've got ideas for the long-term, so the short term's a little bit more trying. The stuff in later chapters will be quick...I hope...**

The trio sat, lounging and gazing at the sun-filled garden in front of them, while they were safely consumed by the shadows of shelter.

"You don't remember it at all?" Spike turned his head to Buffy.

"Not at all," she shook her head.

"Well, you drank willingly," Angel assured both of them, "Or else you wouldn't be here."

"So, you can't, like, rape-sire someone?" Buffy furrowed her brows.

"No," Spike told her, "The human has to want it on some level or another or it wouldn't take." He lit up a cigarette and inhaled on it. "Of course most people wouldn't mind being eternal and almost indestructible with only a moment to think about it."

"Yeah, I guess not," she considered. She stared at Spike for a moment, narrowed her eyes, then ventured, "So, explain to me how you can smoke without breathing."

He paused, then turned to her, smirking, "How long've you been wanting to ask me that?"

"Pretty much since the day I met you," she smiled, "But you were all evil, and I felt it would be kind of awkward."

"You don't _need _to breathe," Angel cut in. "Doesn't mean you can't."

"Ah," Buffy nodded. Then she narrowed her eyes and turned to Spike, "Hey, let me try one of those."

"Well, then," Spike happily pulled out a cigarette for Buffy.

"What? No, Buffy, don't smoke," Angel winced.

"Why not?" she shrugged and took the cigarette Spike offered.

"Because it's disgusting," Angel said.

"Mmm, but all the cool kids are doin' it," Spike smiled. Buffy laughed with him and placed the cigarette in her mouth.

"Buffy, don't," Angel continued to plead. "You'll get addicted."

"So?" Buffy mumbled, as Spike leaned in and light her cigarette.

"So…oh! You're teeth'll turn yellow!" Angel pointed to her triumphantly.

Buffy simply closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel her lungs filling with air. She felt completely connected to her body. Then, she opened her eyes, took the cigarette out, and exhaled, watching her breath leave her mouth and travel into the sunlight. She felt comforted and alive. And then there was the hacking cough.

"Wow, that's glamorous," Angel said sarcastically to Buffy as she held her hand over her mouth.

"Well," Buffy retorted once she recovered, "_I_ don't have to look at my teeth, ever."

Spike and Buffy laughed together, as Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

"Plus," Buffy held up a finger, "Spike's been smoking for years, and his teeth aren't yellow."

"No," Angel agreed, "Spike's a special case. The disgusting yellow color went to his hair instead."

Buffy and Spike, again, started laughing, and, eventually, Angel gave in, too. "Oh, my God," Buffy smiled and held up a hand to Angel, "That was awesome."

Angel, happy to have been laughed at, high-fived his newest Childe.

"Wow," Buffy looked to Spike, "I didn't know he knew how to be funny."

Spike shrugged, "Neither did I, luv."

"It's kind of new," Angel admitted.

"Well, I like it very much," Buffy smiled at him.

"Well, then, I'll try to perfect the craft," Angel matched her smile.

Buffy took another drag on her cigarette, and, this time, was able to inhale and exhale without coughing. "I can't believe it," she spoke candidly.

"Can't believe what?" Spike didn't want to start being serious again and pretended not to know what she was talking about.

"I just…" she tried to form the right words in her head. "Forever…it's so long."

Angel nodded, "That it is."

"I'm gonna see everything."

Spike smirked, "All the hair, all the clothes."

"A cure for cancer," Buffy pondered.

"The end of the world," said Angel, then turned to them, "The real one, I mean."

"Wow," she shrugged, "I feel kind of-"

"Strange?" Angel guessed.

"No, actually, I feel kind of excited," she bit her lip," Is that bad?"

"Of course not," Spike told her, "Eternity should be pretty exciting."

They smiled for a moment in silence, until Buffy's stomach made a loud, gurgling noise, indicating to all of them her extreme hunger. She sighed, embarrassed, "'Kay, so I'm feeling just a bit peckish."

"Well, there's blood in the fridge," Angel had paused for a moment before reminding Buffy of this. He'd waited for only a moment with the slight hope that she would want to drink from him--become one with him--live off him.

"No, that's okay," she held a strong hand on his arm, and he sat back down. She put her cigarette out.

"Buffy, you have to eat something," Spike told her gently. This was the new arena for him--to have Buffy fully participate in the activities of his kind.

"Yeah, I know," Buffy didn't look away from Angel. "But I wanna be traditional." She smirked as Angel looked to her, happily questioning her.

"Traditional?" Spike was getting worried, "But…no, you-you have a soul."

Buffy and Angel were drawn out of their connection by this. They were eager to correct his mistake. "No, no, no," Buffy held a hand out to Spike. "I'm not going to kill people; I just want my first meal to be of the blood of my Sire…like it's supposed to be."

"Oh," he was visibly relieved. "So you're going to drink from…" Spike suddenly found the picture painted in his head to be a little disturbing.

"From Angel," Buffy finished for him.

"Right-right now?"

"Well, uh, sure," she turned to Angel, who shrugged in agreement.

"All right, then, I'm gonna leave," Spike stood in record speed.

"Leave? What? Why?"

"I just…this is a moment thing…for you two…" he tried.

"But I don't want you to be alienated," Buffy said.

"I won't be," Spike was getting desperate. "I'll just be elsewhere."

"But shouldn't we all be--"

"It's okay; I've never been big on watching, either," Angel smirked, understanding.

Spike nodded in gratitude and left. Buffy cringed, feeling bad for making him uncomfortable, "I just thought…you know…don't you guys _like _watching it?"

Angel looked at her wincingly.

"So, no?"

"No," he assured. "It's enjoyable to take part in, less to witness. I mean, do _you _like watching other people eat?"

Buffy shook her head, remembering a certain incident with Xander and too much cotton candy.

"Right. Well, same with us."

As she nodded in understanding, she realized how much she did not know about vampires. She knew everything about killing them, but, almost nothing about their day to day lives. There was a lot to learn.

"So, uh," Angel shrugged awkwardly. "You said you wanted to…"

"Yeah," Buffy blushed, "I mean, if you're okay with it--"

"I'm fine with it!" he insisted, looking very similar to a happy puppy.

She smiled at him and then bit her lip, not knowing how to approach the task ahead of her. "I don't really know how to..."

He leaned foreword, inhaling her scent as she inhaled his. "Change?" his voice was no more than a slow, easy whisper. She nodded and moved closer to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Close your eyes." She did. He put a hand on the back of her head and gently moved it to his neck. She let his scent surround her. A warm feeling overcame her. She felt safe and cared for. Then her lip felt something strange. Her eyes shot open to see Angel's face in front of her own. She could feel her teeth's sharp edge. She could see more sharply. She could smell everything.

She smirked at him, "Hideous?"

He smiled and brought his face down to hers. Without saying a word, he kissed her. They got lost in their emotions, loving the feeling of being with each other. She pulled herself of top of him, straddling his legs, all the while continuing the kiss. Together they were a mess of teeth and tongues until the point when they were unsure which belonged to themselves and which belong to each other.

Finally, Buffy broke away to find Angel, also changed. She ran a hand through his hair and pulled herself against him. Her mouth was positioned at his neck, but she paused.

"It's okay," he encouraged her, tilting his head away from her to give her easier access to his vein. "Go ahead."

Buffy swallowed hard, made ravenous by the smell of blood. She dipped her head down, opening her mouth so that her teeth scraped his skin. Then, carefully, she plunged her teeth down into Angel's neck. The blood started to pour immediately. Her mouth was filled with the copper taste. It was stinging but filling. She gulped eagerly, holding Angel's head tightly against her own.

Angel ran a calming hand down Buffy's back to help her relax. He tried to remember the first time he drank blood, the grave digger. It was rush and frightening, but it gave him such a miraculous high. Buffy bit in deeper. "Shh," he stroked her hair.

The sound of Angel's voice brought her back to reality. Her eyes opened with a start, and she released her teeth from Angel's neck. He sighed and looked at her. They shared a glance for a moment. He smiled at her, letting her know it was okay. She smiled back, changing back to her human face. There was a line of blood running down from her mouth.

He rubbed it off with his thumb. She held onto his hand, and he offered the blood on his finger to her. She took it, gratefully.

Buffy tried to think of a mature way to articulate the phenomenon, but could only come up with was, "That was good."

Angel laughed lightly. He brushed a finger on her cheek. They both smiled gently. Buffy had drunken blood, and the world still turned. Her life had ended, and the sun still rose.

Everything was different, but they were the same.

**Coming up? **

**Buffy and her friends/family. Connor meets Buffy and Spike; Buffy and Spike meet Connor. **


	5. No Longer Dying

AN: Okay, I know it's been eight-thousand years since I updated, and many of you have probably lost faith in me and my writing ability and think I've completely abandoned this story. Let me just say that, lack of update evidence to the contrary, none of the above is true. I love this story, especially since I know where it's going, and I do write it, but I write the parts that come way down the line. Anywho, I hope you don't hate me too much, cause I'm gonna give you a three chapter update, and hopefully be rather quick about the next one.

Again, I am sorry. Please enjoy...

* * *

They were all terrified, but none of them would say that they were. They were pretending to be calm and excited. Xander was nearly huddled on the Summers' couch. He'd been there so many times before, but it felt so different now. Buffy would be different now. Very different.

It had only taken the look on Spike's face, when they told him, to make Willow feel that the whole thing had been a horrible mistake. She felt sick to her stomach, standing by the staircase, feeling that she should be the one to open the door.

Dawn sat on the first step, ready to invite her sister into their home. She was going to make it very natural and easy-going. "Oh, you're here? Well, come on in!" she was going to say. She was going to smile. She was not going to wait until Buffy asked to be invited in. That was unthinkable. That would make everyone feel terrible.

Giles was staring at nothing, not knowing what to think. What were they doing? Angel had sounded calm on the phone. Everything most likely went according to plan. Buffy would be safe. She would hate them, but she would be safe.

Even Anya was quiet, astounded by the group's decision. It was much more morally gray than they usually tolerated. Although, Buffy was becoming rather grotesque with her illness and all, Xander had explained to her that that was not the reasoning behind their decision.

After hours of waiting, Giles suggested that they all eat a little something, and they all filed into the kitchen, thrilled to have a distraction. But Dawn stayed. She wasn't in any kind of denial. She was ready.

_Knock, knock._

No one else, it seemed, had heard the sound. And Dawn sprang to her feet to open the door.

Buffy didn't look different. She had been crying—wet, glistening skin underneath her eyes, but other than that, she was unchanged.

"Hi," Dawn actually smiled. She hadn't planned on it. She had planned to be serene and understanding of her predicament. She wanted her to know that she would be there for her through this very rough time.

"Hey, Dawn," she said. Her voice was the same, happy even. Her lips were soft and smooth as she moved them into a wise, little smirk.

"Are you okay?" her sister kept looking into her eyes. They looked the same. She thought they'd be deeper or colder or shinier or something. But they weren't. They were the same eyes Buffy had had her whole life.

She shrugged to Spike, who was next to her. Dawn hadn't even glanced at him, or Angel, on the other side of her, for that matter. "Yeah," she sighed, a big sister still. "I'm okay."

"You wanna come in?" Dawn shrugged. It was strange inviting her into her own house, but it was necessary this first time.

"That'd be great," she nodded.

"Okay, well, uh, come on in, then."

Buffy stepped through the threshold and wrapped her arms around her sister. She was cold but kind. She almost felt like an adult. "It'll be all right, okay, Dawn?"

Dawn hadn't meant to let her see how nervous she was. She had meant to be confident and mature. "I know," she merely whispered; Buffy held her a little tighter.

Behind her, Angel and Spike came in, and Spike shut the door behind them. Angel put a hand on Buffy's shoulder, and she broke away from Dawn.

"Are they all freaking out?" she raised her eyebrows at her and gave a little smirk.

"Very much so," Dawn smiled. "In the kitchen," She motioned towards the group who was huddled in the small space, biting off there fingernails, trying to think of all the different things that could have or still could go wrong. Dawn looked toward Spike now, curious to see the anger there had been before.

"I'm sorry for earlier, nibblit," Spike whispered to her, aside, as Angel and Buffy moved towards the kitchen. "I kind of lost my head a little. Didn't mean to frighten you," he smirked.

"Pfft," she scoffed. "Like you could scare me."

He smiled, but didn't have time to respond. They were interrupted by the absolute silence after Buffy's friendly whisper, "Hey, everybody."

Spike and Dawn moved into the kitchen, behind Angel and Buffy. Everyone was stunned into unconditional stillness. For some of them, it was like seeing a dream or a ghost materialize in front of them, for others it was fear that their plan had succeeded, and yet for a select few, Willow in particular, it was like realizing too late that her ultimate goal was wrong and harmful to her best friend.

"Guys," Dawn choose a flippant tone to make the situation marginally comfortable for Buffy. "Action," she shrugged.

Buffy smiled at her, a genuine and grateful smile, then turned back to her friends. "It's okay, guys. It's just me."

Giles cleared his throat, trying to sound strong he nodded his head, "It's good to see you, Buffy." He wore his recently trademark sad smile.

"You too," she chirped, trying too hard.

"You're," Xander barely whispered, his voice scared in his throat. "You look good, Buff," the half-smile on his lips was almost grateful. After months of watching her deteriorate, there she was, standing proud and elegant and healthy. All of the complicated feelings seemed to melt at the thought of having her well.

"Thanks," she sighed. "I'm sorry I gave you guys such a scare." More moments of silence followed. She turned to Angel, who met her eyes with encouragement, then looked to Spike, who put a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward.

"So, all right, Scoobies. It happened. Buffy's a vampire, now. She's got a soul. She's fine. She's...good, even." He turned to Buffy, who gave him a slightly amused nod. "Yeah, she's good. And there's absolutely no reason why she should be able to take this whole situation in stride and the lot of you can't even so much as say, 'ello' to her. So...buck up, boys and girls." He nodded to himself for a moment, then muttered, too quiet for the humans to hear, "It's not like you haven't brought her back against her will before."

The gang was hit hard with the words. They were still for a moment longer, then softened.

"I'm glad you are no longer dying, Buffy," Anya smiled and threw her arms around her in the special, artificial yet genuine way that only she could.

Buffy allowed herself a little laugh, "Thanks, Anya. That, uh, means a lot."

The group chuckled ever so lightly, awkwardness still hovering in the air. As Anya pulled out of the hug and moved over to stand beside Xander, Buffy let out a hefty sigh and bit her lip. _Next? _

There were no takers. Everyone stood like statues. Dawn slapped the counter with emphasis, startling all of them, "Okay, then. Why don't we all go sit down in the living room? We can get some snacks going? Chill out? Relax?" she looked around the circle, focusing mainly on Willow, the only person yet to speak at all.

"That sounds great, Dawn," Angel smiled at her, proud, in a way, that the youngest Summers was able to take this better than anyone.

* * *


	6. Romantic Vampire Expression

AN: Okay, this chapter is to clear up something that I don't want to be too murky. This is a B/A fic. I know I had them kissing a few times and declaring their love for each other, but those two tend to do that a lot and not mean anything by it. Just so you know, they meant it this time. But don't worry about dear, old Spike. He and Buffy will still be tight, just not so much in a romantic sense. Ooh, and, although this is not a A/S fic, it doesn't mean that they're gonna hate each other's guts. Both guys are in crisis mode with Buffy's situation, and will react as mature adults would.

Yeah, okay, nuff said...

* * *

Buffy sat on the couch with Angel to her right and Spike to her left and Dawn casually on the armrest by him. Xander and Anya took the chair closest to the happy family, while Giles and Willow stayed standing, as if ready to bolt at any moment.

"No," Buffy shook her head, "I didn't feel a thing."

"That's really great," Xander smiled, overcome with that joy of seeing her healthy. "And the rumors were true about the vampire slayer vampire and the soul thing? That's phenomenal," he clapped his hands together.

"Yeah," Dawn nodded.

"Although, I'm sure Will wouldn't stepped in with that soul spell thing if we needed her to," Buffy was anxious to get Willow to acknowledge her. She'd become horrified that she'd lost her best friend to her new biological status. "Right, Will?"

Willow shot her head up, as if she'd been in some kind of daze. Her eyes were watery and face distressed, but she feigned a smile under the scrutiny of the group, "Of course. If it was what you wanted." Her voice was trailed off, but Buffy could hear it clearly.

Angel could hear it, too, and he furrowed his brow at the comment, disliking guilt on someone as good-hearted as Willow. "Excuse me," Angel spoke quietly, but everyone listened. "Willow, could I steal you for a second? There are just some things I need to go over with you? Upstairs?"

Willow shrugged as she met his eyes, "Sure."

He smiled a little before kissing Buffy's cheek and standing to usher Willow upstairs to privacy.

"Are you sleeping with Angel now?" Anya, ever the helpful ice-breaker leaned in, as soon as they were out of earshot, to Buffy, who smiled and laughed.

"Uh," she was suddenly thrilled that it was not a possibility for her to blush. "N-not, uhm," she turned to Spike, who chuckled at her confusion and raised his eyebrows. _Don't look at me. _

"Well," she stammered, "Not at the moment, but, uhm--"

"Do you plan to sleep with Angel?" Anya was determined to get her answer, and it seemed everyone else was curious as well.

"It's not really the type of thing you plan..." Buffy tried, and smacked Spike lightly on the leg, hearing him laugh at her.

"Well," Giles cleared his throat and removed his glasses to clean them. "I've read that there's a strong connection between a Sire and his, er, Childe that can sometimes be expressed through romantic, er, feelings of sorts...?"

"Uh, yeah," Buffy chirped. "It's just romantic vampire expression stuff." Almost by instinct, she looked to Spike, concerned more for him than the rest of them that her near declaration would hurt. This face was blank, stoic. She sighed. "I don't know."

* * *

AN: Hey, let's hear it for the first mention of the word 'stoic.' Don't worry, it'll come into practice a lot more frequently later on. I did have a reason for naming the story the way I did...it doesn't just sound cool. 


	7. Forgiven

AN: I don't know if it got across as clearly as I would have liked in the earlier chapter when Buffy said she forgives Angel that that, to me, meant that they were meant for each other (or at least that she was meant for Angel), because that's truly all he wants in his whole existence, and she gave it to him. This chapter deals with the importance of forgiveness to Angel...

* * *

"What did you need to know?" Willow was quick as soon as she and Angel had reached her bedroom. Her arms were wrapped firmly around her body. She was closed, not willing to share. Angel contemplated quietly how to reach her. 

"Oh, just simple things," he shrugged, closing the door behind him. "Any kind of side effects the mystical illness could have on Buffy now..." he suggested, although he knew the thought was ridiculous. Mortal diseases meant nothing to immortals.

"There shouldn't be any side effects," she looked confused. "Why? Does she seem sick? Because the only reason we did this was to stop her from being sick, and if it didn't even do that--"

"'We'?" he calmly peered into her frightened eyes. "Who exactly do you mean by that?"

She shrugged, "Well, you know, me, you, Giles, all of us, the gang...?"

"Willow," he sighed and sat on her neatly made bed. "You can't blame yourself for what happened-"

"I'm not!" she said to quickly.

"You're not," Angel crossed his arms, disbelieving.

"I'm not _blaming _myself. I, I mean, blame is such a useless thing. It doesn't serve any practical purpose," she tried.

He nodded slowly, "Doesn't stop the feeling."

Willow sighed deeply and closed her eyes very tightly, "I guess you're sort of an expert on this, huh?"

He chuckled lightly, "Yeah. I'm pretty much the definitive authority on guilt and everything associated with it."

"We killed her," she barely whispered.

"Well," he sighed, "In the words of a woman wise beyond her years, 'I forgive you'."

She looked up at him then, meeting his eyes with a combination of sorrow, confusion, and gratitude, "Forgive me?"

"For everything you've ever done and everything you will ever do," he smiled and stood. "I'm not much for religion, but I think they do have some things right."

"But how can you forgive--?"

"It's not easy," he agreed with her negative tone. "But the people who love you and are strong enough can."

"And you think Buffy's one of them?" she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "Buffy'll forgive me?"

He put a guiding hand on her left shoulder in support, "I know she will. She probably already has."

* * *

AN: Okay, so say goodbye to season seven(ish) Sunnydale, cause that's the last you'll see of it. We're jumping forward a year to W&H, where Buffy and Spike meet Connor. Don't worry, the Scoobies are still very much part of the story.

And since it took me a millenia to update, I'm gonna tell you a little bit about what's to come: two major tragedies, Angelus, a ressurection of sorts, and a wedding...

It would mean the world to me if you'd all review. I love to hear whatever you have to say (although I love it more if it's nice to me...or not, whatever, it's cool)


	8. Leaving

AN: I was going to skip this chapter and just move on to when Buffy goes to LA with Angel and Co., but a got a really thoughtful review from Pentwirler (feel free to read it) that encouraged me to give Sunnydale one more chapter, so, hey, that's what I did. So, see, reviewers? I listen! I really do! I love to hear what you have to say. Thanks, Pentwirler, this chapter was needed.

So, without further ado...Buffy and Willow: One Week Later

* * *

"You kissed him?!"

Buffy laughed at her shocked eyes and high tone, "Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me?!" Willow's voice stayed at its high, erratic tone.

"Well," Buffy sighed. Willow and she had made huge strides in the past week. After a long hug and cry period, they'd started talking again, and, very often, they forgot Buffy's turn and talked like they had for years. "I didn't know if it meant anything."

"I think it does," she took a sip of her coffee, and watched Buffy's face as she swallowed. Buffy had never really given herself time to get over Angel. It was like it was always something she'd wanted to do, but it kept getting overshadowed by bigger, more important things. The love had never been given the slightest chance to fade. "You two are going to live together, now?"

"Well, not just us," Buffy said. "Spike and Dawn will be there, too. He's not moving in, because we're an item."

"But you're an item?" Willow edged her on.

Buffy bit her lip, happily, remembering how giddy a relationship in its newness can be, "I think we might be."

"Oh, my Gosh, Buffy!" Willow's eyes widened, "That's so great!"

"You think so?" Buffy tried not to smile, "I'm not sure, though. Everything's so new right now; I don't want to rush into something that big while I'm still dealing with everything else. And what about Spike? I don't want to hurt him like that."

"I don't think this has anything to do with Spike," she narrowed her eyes.

"It does! I don't like hurting him, and Angel and I together would hurt him."

"No, Buffy," she shook her head. "I think Spike, more than anything in the world, wants to see you happy." Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Willow stopped her, "He knows that you two have a connection, and especially now, I think he understands that he has a very special part to play in your life. But I think he's starting to realize that you two work better as, well, friends."

Those words hurt Buffy in a way. Spike had been many things to her over the years, but they had never really been friends. It was an interesting, simplistic word for a relationship such as theirs.

"Buffy," her best friend smiled, "You've always been in love with Angel."

She thought about protesting that for a second, as she would have a mere week ago. But now Angel was securely in her life. Almost none of the barriers that had existed between them were an issue anymore. And they were irrevocably attached, not just as lovers, but as Sire and Childe. She felt uncontrollably comforted by his very presence. It felt right to be with him. It was above and beyond what she ever could have left for him before her change. It was more than love. They were, now, more than ever, soul mates.

"And here you two are, more perfect for each other than ever before," Willow's eyes were so excited for her best friend. "What could possibly be stopping you?"

The night air was cool on the Summers' front porch. Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and turned to Willow, "He wants me to move."

Willow paused for a moment, "Angel?"

"Yeah. He," she shrugged, "He says he's still got a business in LA, and he would prefer not giving that up. and but he doesn't want to abandon me. So, he asked if I would go with him."

"Oh, Buffy," Willow rested her head on her hand.

"I mean, he said he would give up the whole LA thing if I wanted to stay, but..." she turned away from her friend, afraid to hurt her. "I don't want him to do that."

"Wait," she got a little concerned, "You're not seriously thinking about moving, are you? What about your mom's house? What about Dawn?"

"Dawn would come with us," Buffy explained. "In fact, Spike's kind of already talked her into it."

"Spike?"

"He would come too," she admitted, hating the shocked expression on her best friend's face. "And, I mean, LA isn't that far. Dawn and I would make frequent trips back here to see you all."

"Buffy," Willow seemed almost betrayed, "Do you _want _to leave?"

Oh, that question was hard to answer. Not necessarily because she didn't know the answer, but more because she had no rationale to back it up. For some reason, she did want to leave, and she knew that her friends would see this as something they did wrong, or an insult to her real love for them, but she couldn't deny the joy it gave her to think of the four of them, Angel, Spike, Dawn, and herself, working in LA, learning to live in this new, strange family they'd made. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Buffy didn't have to answer, just the look of instant apology in her eyes was enough for Willow to understand. "Wow," she said. "That's big."

Buffy nodded, "It's really big."

"Are you sure about this?" she said, sounding more worried than argumentative.

For a long moment, she thought and could only see good. Spike had grown to become a sort of older brother to Dawn, and Angel had always wanted a family. And finally, she had found a way to be totally loved and surrounded by people who understand her. There was no question in her mind. "I really, really am."

* * *

AN: Ooh, I'm excited now. Buffy leaving Sunnydale, means the story in my head is finally going to get started. More hints? Both of the major tragedies previously mentioned involve folks with a foreign upbringing. And one of them is coming up shortly, not next chapter shortly, but shortly...Oh, and for those of you who are still scratching your head about the title? Explained right after the first tragedy.

Tell me what your thinking. I'm eager to learn!


	9. My Best Friend, Buffy

AN: Okay, this whole story is AU, so hopefully you guys aren't hooked on canon like its air or anything, cause I'm gonna pretend some things didn't happen. Namely, that when Cordelia came back from the "higher plane", she remembered everything and was glad to be home. I know, it kind of negates all of season four, but, you know, that season being what it was, I'm okay with it. The group is warming up to Connor, but he still doesn't live at the hotel (Angel's whole speech about champion-being still happened). So, that's my horrible sin of canonization, but if you've read this story to here you know my feelings on forgiveness, so...

* * *

Buffy hadn't called Los Angeles home in what seemed like quite a long time. Her nerves were churning her stomach, and it didn't help that Angel seemed just as, if not more, nervous to introduce her to his friends.

"I should've called," he sighed for the third time.

"Then call," Spike grumbled for the third time.

All four of them had piled into Angel's '67 Plymouth GTX with Spike's two bags of belongings that he felt were necessary to keep. Buffy and Dawn's belongings, consisting of quite a few more bags, were following them in the Moving Van. Dawn and Spike were playing "War" in the backseat, while Buffy stared out the window, planning what she would say to each member of the A.I. team to make them feel comfortable and Angel drove too quickly down the highway.

"It doesn't serve any purpose to call now," Angel shook his head. "I should have called _before_."

"You think they'll be upset?" Buffy bit her lip.

"Why would they be upset? It's your hotel, isn't it?" Dawn shrugged. "What do they think we're gonna do?"

"They won't be upset," Angel held his scowl. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Buffy asked.

Angel took a deep breath, trying to figure out the proper way to explain. _Well, Buffy, I had angry, vindictive sex with Darla a little while back, and, in some sort of freak occurrence, she got pregnant. Yeah, so I have a son...? Oh, but don't be expecting to see a cute little toddler when we get there. My son was kidnapped and raised by an angry Briton who thought he would thrive best in Hell, so he's a teenager...with some anger issues...who recently tried to lock me in a box and send me to the bottom of the ocean...so I kind of kicked him out...but it was really noble..._

"Well," he cocked his head to the side. "I'm just...I think there may be a few surprised faces."

"Oh," Buffy smirked and sighed, relieved. "Yeah."

They pulled up to the Hyperion around midnight. Fred, Gunn, and Lorne were fast asleep, and Cordelia was at her apartment. There was no one to welcome them, but Angel felt that to be more of a positive than a negative. After paying the movers and showing Dawn her room so she could sleep, Angel helped unload the truck with Spike and Buffy. It didn't take long with the three of them. By one, Angel led both of them upstairs.

"Spike," he pointed to the door next to Dawn's. "You can take this one." Spike nodded and opened the door to find a moderately sized room with a queen-sized bed, small dresser, and flowered wall paper.

"Right," he chucked as he walked in. "Home sweet bloody home."

"Sorry about the decor," Angel smiled.

"You should paint the whole thing black," Buffy teased, following Spike into the room.

"Yeah?" Spike dusted off the dresser with his hand. "I was thinking red," he snickered.

"Blood red," she agreed with a laugh. "With skulls."

"Ooh," he gave her a thumb's up, "Classy."

Angel still stood by the door. "You can do whatever you want with it," he shrugged, though sounded a little concerned, "It's your room."

"Relax, Martha," Spike sat on the bed. "Just a joke."

Angel sighed and smiled, "Oh, thank God."

Buffy laughed and took Angel's hands, "Why don't you show me our room?"

He nodded, "Sure. You all right in here, Spike?"

"Should be," he muttered, pulling out a cigarette.

"Okay. Goodnight," he led Buffy away.

"Night, Spike," she said over her shoulder. She smiled at him a little knowing smile until Angel pulled her out of his field of vision.

He lit his cigarette and took a long drag on it, before sighing and throwing himself onto the bed. The ceiling had a tiny crack in it and its color was fading. It looked old. Spike laughed a little at the thought. He'd had many more birthdays than the hotel ceiling. He was much older, much more worn down. He had many more cracks. He was much more faded.

And yet he felt that his journey had reached a checkpoint. Something new was coming around the next corner that he had never seen before.

There was a deep pain in his chest that he was trying hard to quiet which called out for Buffy's affection. But it was a pain he was used to, and one that was becoming easier to forget. Buffy was not meant for him, the constant voice in his head that had been insisting the truth of its mantra for years was calmer now than it had been in the past. When he was first initiating himself into the world of Sunnydale, it came in Drucilla's voice, quiet and confused. Later, it came from Angel, snickering and condescending, as he found himself falling for his Slayer nemesis. Then, when he finally got her--when she would come to him in the early morning hours and beg him to be with her--his own voice demanded it.

It was his voice now, as well, though it was no longer demanding. It was calm and understood. Buffy was not meant for him. Simple. Kind. Honest. He took another drag and closed his eyes. He found himself feeling strangely content. In a way, he was happy for her--happy that she'd been able to find what makes her happy; happy that she still wanted him around, even if it wasn't in the way he'd originally wanted.

This checkpoint would bring about a new Spike, he felt. He could be older, more mature. Less of the bad boy routine; more of who he really was. Another drag and he was near sleep. He sighed, long and deep, smiling that same knowing smile his best friend, Buffy, had given him.

_Friend._ He laughed a little at the simplicity of the word and the weight it held. She was in many ways his very first friend. He peeked through slanted eyes at the crack in the ceiling. Almost one hundred and forty years old, and he'd finally made a friend.

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AN: Hey, I love Spike, too. I know it's sad, but he's not gonna be with Buffy here. No one come at me with pitchforks, please. Spike's still going to be really vital to the story, even though he's not bedding it with Buffy. No fear.

And for you others, the next chapter is a few sentences away from being finished, so review and you'll be rewarded: yes, folks, it's time for a little bit of Bangel fluff.


	10. Unhappy Thoughts

AN: Sorry this took longer than I made it seem it would. I just had a bit of a melt down, because I outlined the rest of this story...like, the rest of it...it was one hell of an outline (ten pages), and then my house lost electricity and the whole things was lost, so anything about this story had me a little depressed. But, I should not take out electrical issues on those who like to read what I've written, so, as promised: B/A fluff...

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_Our room._ Angel led Buffy to the room he'd slept in for the past two years. The room where he'd drawn countless pictures of Darla. The room where he'd assembled and disassembled Connor's crib. The room where he could dream of Cordelia's smile without reality interfering. The room that Buffy would now share with him.

"Sorry it's not more company ready," he mumbled, opening the door. "I didn't really bother with cleaning when Willow called..." He shook his head remembering that call. He hadn't even given it a second thought before getting in the car and speeding to Sunnydale. He hadn't even told anyone, and called Cordelia from the road to tell her he wouldn't be at the office the next day. In a million years, he had not expected Buffy to be there with him when he returned to his room.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled. "I'm not company."

He smiled, and took a few steps into the room, wincing at the clothes on the unmade bed and the empty mug on the desk. "Well," he turned to her and gave a little shrug, "This is it."

"Your bachelor pad," she smiled, nodding to the room, seeming pleased with what she saw.

"I guess you could call it that," he fiddled nervously with his hands. Buffy looked to him with a glimmer in her eyes. His eyes grew wide, "But it's not like I've got tons of girls in here all the time! Not at all! I never have girls in here! Never! I don't have _anyone _in here!"

She laughed a little and walked toward him, "Well, you've got _me _in here, now." Leaning up to reach him, she kissed him lightly and ran a hand through his hair. "You okay?" she asked after pulling away, a little amused.

"Fine," he shrugged.

"Fine," she nodded, and turned away from him, scanning the room. Then, she bit her lip playfully and climbed onto the bed, moving to the head and getting under the covers. Angel just watched, dumbfounded, not knowing what she wanted him to do. "C'mon, Angel. Come hold me. I won't bite."

He chuckled lightly at that, as he moved to the head of the bed and sat down. Buffy gave a heavy sigh, pulled herself up, and sat down on his lap, pulling the covers around both of them. "Hi," he whispered, holding on to her, surprised.

"Hi," she kissed him again, then rested her forehead on his. "Why are you so nervous? It's just me."

"I'm not nervous," his face grew very serious.

"Right, and I'm the world's tallest woman," she smiled and touched her nose to his.

He laughed lightly as she ran and hand through his hair. Inhaling her scent, he closed his eyes, "I guess I just can't believe it. I never thought I'd get another chance."

"Chance?" she kissed his neck gently.

"I never thought I'd have you again," he barely whispered. "I thought I blew it; I would never get to hold you again; never kiss you again..."

"Really?" she stared deep into his eyes and found complete sincerity, no armor, no wall. She sighed, "I always knew I would kiss you again."

He smiled and brought his face to hers slowly. They kissed softly, both overwhelmed with the comfort it brought them. It felt so very right for her to be with him and vise versa.

"Angel?" she whispered, putting the slightest distance between them. "Is this...I mean, do you think we could...Would--would it be _safe_?"

"Safe?" he wrinkled his forehead before he processed her real question. Then, his eyes got wide with surprise. "Oh! Safe!" She laughed as he sat up straight and bit his lip in contemplation. "I...I think it might possibly be safe."

She tilted her head, "Is that the best you can do?"

"Well," he chuckled. "It's not like I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but, I mean, I don't think we're in danger of a repeat performance of last time."

She but her lip and put her hands on her hips, "What are you trying to say? Think I've lost some shine over the years? 'Cause let me tell you; I will rock your world, little boy."

"No! I didn't mean that at all! I just meant, you know, last time, it was all very unexpected and spontaneous. I was just overcome and elated and...and I don't think I would loose control like that again. I wouldn't let myself."

"No?" she smirked, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Nope," he smiled back, kissing her longer. "I promise."

"And if you're wrong?" she dared.

"Re-ensoulment spell is downstairs; it's in a file," he said, very seriously.

"What if I can't find it?" she smiled, and he could tell she was convinced.

"Then I guess you'll just have to kill me," he shrugged.

"Oh, no!" she shrieked, melodramatically placing both hands on either side of Angel's face. "That'll be so tragic! I'll have to wear black for, like, a week!"

Angel laughed, "Unheard of!"

"The horror!" They both laughed, still holding each other, until Buffy quieted and pulled herself off Angel's lap and laid down on the bed. Quietly, Angel pulled himself on top of her and leaned down for a kiss.

After a few moments, Buffy brought her hands down to the bottom of his shirt and smiled. "Think unhappy thoughts," she whispered.

He laughed and kissed her again, "I'll try."

In a way, their bodies were familiar to each other. They had felt these curves and scars before. But also, there was something very different. There was a new electricity, one that could never have occurred before. They could both be entirely themselves in this new arena--this new life. There was no barrier between them.

It was true, they had lost some things. They were no longer star-crossed. They were no longer nearly as romantically opposed. Now they were almost normal--expected, even.

"I love you," she smiled and whispered when they were sleepily entangled in each other. There was no hint of uncertainty in his eyes. It was safe. It was undeniably safe.

He smiled, letting his eyes close as he inhaled, "Love you, too. Goodnight."

A thrill went through her at the thought of waking up with him. She'd dreamt of it so often that it didn't seem real now. Her eyes felt so heavy, but she lifted her face up to see him once more, just in case, "Good night."

"I'll be here, love," he promised, knowing exactly what her gaze meant. "I'll be here forever. I'll never, ever leave you."

She smiled like a child promised a pony and buried her face into his shoulder. He laughed and pulled her close to him. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she barely whispered. He nodded slowly, and a few moments passed.

Together, they let their eyes close and their minds wander until they fell perfectly contented into sleep.

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AN: The next chapter is written and ready to go, but I wanna wait for a few reviews before I post it. (and if you're a Cordelia fan, you should review extra fast, because the next chapter has a whole hell of a lot of her)

Thanks for reading!


	11. Nipped in the Bud

AN: Hi, I'm Emily, and I like Cordelia. _Hi, Emily_. …I was a big believer in the whole A/C ship, and I'm sure some of you were too, and just because Angel's with Buffy in this particular story, does it mean I plan to make Cordelia horrible? Absolutely not! Read on…

"When did he get home?" Wesley's hushed voice asked urgently.

"I don't know," Cordelia sighed, staring with the rest of Angel Investigations at Angel's closed office door.

Fred whispered, "Late last night."

"Is he all right?" Wesley turned to her.

Fred shrugged at the same time Cordelia said, "I'd guess not."

Gunn moved away from the door, shaking his head, "God, what is this now, the third time? Think it'll stick this time?"

Cordelia whipped around, "Geez, could we be a little more unfeeling?"

"Sorry, I just," he shrugged, "She does seem to die frequently."

Cordelia took a deep breath and thought of Angel's voice as he was on his way to Sunnydale. He hadn't explained a lot, but he seemed pretty sure that it would be the last time he saw Buffy. He was heartbroken. "Well, from what he told me, it really seems like this was the last time. I'm pretty sure it 'stuck', as you so eloquently put it," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"He's gotta be taking this hard, the poor buttercup," Lorne shook his head slowly.

"I know," Cordelia nodded. "We've just gotta be there for him. That's kind of all we can do. He's gonna get through this in his own time."

"Is he in his office?" Wesley indicated the door.

"I think so," she shrugged and moved to open the door. "Okay, everybody ready? We'll just...go in, see how he is, give him our support, and leave him alone. Okay?"

They all nodded. Fred encouraged, "Yeah, go ahead Cordy, open the door."

Cordelia took a deep breath, not knowing what the right thing for her to say to Angel would be. She'd been in an odd spot with him. Right before her little vacation to floaty head land, she and Angel had been on the verge of something more than the friendship they'd held so dear for three years, and now that she was back, there was a good chance those feelings would resurface. However, Buffy's death was the obvious priority before Cordelia's potential love life, she knew. But, there was no denying the finality in such an event. There would be no shadow--no weight--on Angel now, and maybe he could let himself love someone other than Buffy, now that she was really gone. Just maybe...

"Oh!" was all Cordelia could muster. The rest of the group was silently stunned behind her, their eyes wide and faces frozen.

Angel was in there, all right. Only, he wasn't brooding and depressed and alone like they'd thought. He was making out with the girl who his co-workers had come to help him mourn.

"Cordy--!" Angel held a hand out to her as Buffy instantly backed away.

"Sorry!" Cordelia backed away with the rest of the group. "We thought--I mean...We didn't know you were...uh...sorry!" She shut the door quickly and the group moved away from Angel's office, into the lobby.

After a few moments, Gunn shrugged, "Well, I guess it didn't stick."

...

"Wow," she whispered, unsure if there were any other words capable of expressing such total shock. The cool, night breeze blew through her hair. It made the scent of the jasmine come alive.

"Yeah," he sighed, trying desperately to gage how she was feeling. "It's pretty, uh, unexpected."

She snorted at his understatement, but didn't take her eyes off his face. There was something new there, some alien glint in his eyes. "You're happy," she said.

His mouth pulled up instantly like it did whenever she looked at him, and he shrugged, "I am."

She nodded twice, slowly. "Wow," she repeated. Tears were caught in the back of her throat, ready to come up whenever she deemed it acceptable. She would let them out later that night, when Angel had hugged her goodnight and was far away. He would never see them. She had decided a long time ago that, if by some miracle, Buffy and he decided to give it another go, she would be nothing but supportive--no matter what.

Of course, she had not foreseen her own platonic feelings for Angel developing into something much more. And she had not foreseen him developing the same feelings towards her.

_Nipped in the bud_, she smiled to her best friend. She had always found something so cruel in that expression. Why not let it bloom? Why not see what it looks like before you end it? Maybe it would be something beautiful--perhaps different from what you had before or what you were expecting--but still, beautiful.

"Listen, Cordy," Angel put his head down to stare at his nervous fingers, "This doesn't have to mean that anything is going to--"

"Change?" she whispered, then sighed. "Angel, I've never been the one afraid of change. I think it's great. Change brings...new people, new experiences, new relationships...and with this new...addition to the family," she smiled. "Things around here are most definitely going to change. I mean, you're a boyfriend! That's kind of putting a tombstone on your whole loner persona. Plus, Dawn's going to live here now, and having a teenager around is going to be...well, different. And Spike--"

"Cordy," he put a hand up to stop her. "I know things around here are going to change. I-I didn't mean that. I meant, things, you know, between me and you. _We _don't have to change."

"Oh," she took a deep breath, "Angel."

"I don't want us to change," he added, a little more quietly.

Her smile was a little sad, "I don't want us to either, but--"

"But?" he looked to her, pain in his deep brown eyes.

"But...Angel, there is nothing I want to do less than cause you any kind of pain, but I also kind of want to keep myself out of situations that will cause pain for me, and..." she had to look away from him. "And I know you and Buffy have always had this gigantic, romance movie, true love and...and I know that you would never mean to but...for me...just being who I am, and feeling the way I do...it would be really, really painful for me to be...you know, around _that_."

He didn't say anything; he just stared at the tiny pearl white blooms in front of him.

"I'm sorry," her voice cracked just the slightest.

"You're leaving?" he said, emotionless.

"I think so. I'm...I was thinking maybe I could go back to school. I mean, I've got a very little bit of money saved up and--"

"But that doesn't mean you need to leave," he shook his head. "If you left, you would be leaving because of me."

She winced, "Don't say it like that."

"But that's the truth," he countered.

"I just...I don't feel like I should have to be around for..." she could see it in her head: the two of them, kissing, holding hands, telling little jokes. It would be intolerable.

"Have to?" he stood.

"It's just not where I..."

"God, Cordy! I really thought you, of all people, would be happy for me. All these years you've gone on and on about how much you'd love to see me happy, complaining about all the times that I felt so depressed I thought I might just give up because it bored you, yapping nonstop about which end of the color spectrum I happen to favor! I thought you, of course, would be the least bit happy for me when I finally got one tiny morsel of contentment!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"But no! You, my best friend, have found some way to make the happiest event in my life all about _you_!"

She was crying, her head bowed below him. There were so many things she wanted to say in retaliation, but she could not find the strength to look up and see her best friend's face livid with her.

He waited a moment and watched her. His resolve crumbled quickly, and he bent down to one knee and made his voice softer, "I don't want you to go."

She looked up, sadness written all over her usually happy face, "Well, I don't want you love someone else, but I can't change that."

He was frozen for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She simply wiped her tears, stood, and moved to go back inside, before turning to face him again.

"I'm going to go back to school. You're my best friend, and I am happy that you're happy, but I'm also really, really sad, and that's going to take time to fix, which is something you have," she gave a little smile. "I'm really going to miss you," she promised, then turned on her heel and went back inside.

He put his head in his hands after the door closed behind her. He could not imagine his day to day life without Cordelia in it. She had been a part of him for so long... He felt tears pool in his eyes as well, "I'm really going to miss you, too."

AN: All right. Now's the big jump. Fifteen years, anyone curious to see what's changed?

Also, I want to start giving the chapters names, so if you have any ideas for past chapters, let me know! Thanks!

Review!


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